


good in the dark

by kamwashere



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confused Eric, Episode: s02e04 Episode 4, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Y'all want soft adam? come and get it, but it's not graphic, cw for blood, some smoochin in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22401610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamwashere/pseuds/kamwashere
Summary: 'You know, you don't call me Tromboner anymore.' Eric muses out loud.'You don't like it.''Yeah, it's not really clever as you think it is.-The kiss and what followed.
Relationships: Eric Effiong/Adam Groff
Comments: 29
Kudos: 373





	good in the dark

It's almost one in the morning and Eric is still awake. His eyes are drooping slightly and the consistent ticks of his alarm clock is lulling him to sleep. He feels stupider as the seconds pass by. Of course, that was gonna be a one-time thing, how could Eric be so stupid plus, he kinda has a boyfriend now, he really shouldn’t—

There was a thump at Eric's window and his traitorous heart starts hammering. Could it be…? 

Eric jumps out of his bed, as if he hadn't been fighting to staying awake all night, waiting for that tell-tale sound of a stone hitting his window. He stands in front of his window and takes a deep breath, drawing the curtains in one swoop. There he is in all his brown leather jacket glory: Adam Groff, one hand on his front pocket and the other with a lit cigarette between two fingers. He looks like something straight out of an indie, teen drama. He’s looking at Eric and raises his hand to give a small wave. Eric waves back, caught off guard and smiling uncertainly. He gestures a hand to tell him to wait, and Adam nods in understanding. Or at least Eric hopes he did. 

Eric pushes the curtain back and takes another deep breath before putting both hands on his warm face and squealing. He feels like Juliet being wooed by Romeo in the balcony. The only difference is that they’re not as stupid and he’s pretty sure Romeo and Juliet didn’t have the same genitals. He slaps his cheeks and mutters, ‘Let’s calm down,’ to himself before opening his door, walking quietly down the stairs and comically tiptoeing to the door. 

Eric grabs his pink and green coat from the coat rack and hastily puts it on. He gingerly opens their front door, cringing at the creaking sound it makes. He steps outside, shudders at the slightly chilly air and closes the door behind him. When he turns around, Adam is already in front of the house, taking a long drag from his cig. Eric looks at the cigarette in disdain before flickering his eyes towards Adam, 'Hi, Adam.'

Adam blinks at him, then at his cigarette before stomping the half-burnt on the ground. Eric doesn't want to assume that that particular action was influenced by him but it does seem like so. That thought sends a weird flip in his stomach.

He doesn't seem to know what to say, he's just blinking slowly at Eric. 'Erm,' Eric starts, because he honestly doesn't know what to say. Honestly, what do you say to someone who took you away for a night, took you to a scrapyard that looks like it was once an active crime scene, gave you a bat and plates to smash, kissed you and leaving you more confused than you were before? Oh, by the way, he was also your former bully? 

Adam puts his hand forward, gesturing for him to go first. They share a look, a _moment_ until Eric looks away, breaking the spell. He shoves his cold hands in the pockets of his coat and starts walking, aware of Adam following behind him. 

They walk in silence with Eric casting furtive glances behind him. He catches Adam's eyes whenever he does, pulls away quickly once he does so. After a couple, solid minutes, Adam must have been amused at his antics since he marches towards his side and looks at him. Eric gives him a hesitant smile and goes back to looking forward. Adam has his head bowed when he says, 'You've gotten taller.'

 _Has he?_ Eric looks Adam over and places a hand on top of his head and inches it towards the other boy, reaching just at the top of the tip of his red ears. ‘Huh, yeah.’ He grins. ‘I guess I’ve grown an inch taller over three months.’

‘At least, you don’t have to stand on your tiptoes to look at everyone.’

Eric sputters, shocked. Adam Groff, making jokes? Jokes that aren't at his expense? Just when he thought this situation couldn't get weirder. He gasps dramatically, and he turns his head to look at him pointedly. ‘Excuse me? I’m very average height, thank you very much.’

‘Keep telling yourself that,’ Adam answers, a hint of a smile in his mouth. His _very_ lovely mouth. Eric clears his throat and laughs, ‘You’re a certified arse.’

Adam snorts. Eric nudges his shoulders, and shakes his head, still smiling. ‘Unbelievable.’ 

This is probably a bad idea, but fuck it. 

* * *

For the rest of the night (and the following morning), the two of them spent their time gripping a bat that they shared with their hands and breaking random objects, anything that Adam gets his hands on, really. The rest of the time is spent on slow, gentle kisses—slow, deliberate. As if they're both learning, both memorizing the shape of each other's lips. It never goes far, Eric tries it not to. 

Adam accompanied him home at four in the morning, and Eric is still wearing that smile. 

* * *

Adam grips the end of the hockey stick which has a broken handle near his chin, closes one eye open, and forms a small 'o' with his mouth. Then, he moves a slender, soft hand down the shaft and lazily swings the stick. The expensive-looking but old vase shatters into pieces and Eric whistles while leaning his back on the windshield of a very old, very ancient-looking _bakkie_. He closes his tired eyes, strangely lulled by the sound of ceramics shattering. 

He is jerked awake by Adam saying, 'You tired?' He shoots his eyes open and briefly has a heart attack when he's faced with a very close face of Adam in front of him. 'Jesus is _fucking_ Lord, Adam,' Eric lets out a strangled laugh. 'Well, I'm definitely awake now.'

Eric actually fell asleep tonight, momentarily forgetting about his scheduled rendezvous with Adam. Swing band practices are progressively getting worse and more intense as opening night of the school's Romeo and Juliet: The Musical draws nearer. He wants nothing more than to sink in to his bed and let sleep claim him. But he is more than okay with this alternative. 

'I know I'm keeping you up,' Adam mutters, looking away. He drops the hockey stick and hops on the hood of a tyre. 'We don't have to—' 

'No!' Eric interjects, maybe a little too loudly because Adam actually jumps. 'It's fine.' _Who needs sleep anyway?_

They're quiet again, with only the crickets chirping filling in the silence. Eric sinks in deeper until the upper half of his back and the nape of his neck is resting on the windscreen. Meanwhile, Adam is resting his head on the hood of the truck, eyes close and looking peaceful, docile. The moonlight making his features more prominent; it is as if the tip of his nose is shining like drops of fresh dew in the morning. At first Eric thought that he has no eyelashes, but looking at him close he can see blond hair resting on his cheeks. Eric wonders when did Adam's hair turn from blonde to brown. 'Tell me something about you,' Adam suddenly speaks, and Eric is the one who jumped this time. 

'What?' 

'Just,' He peeks out of his left eye, looking at him. 'talk. Or something.'

Eric thinks. 'My favourite film is Hedwig and the Angry Inch.'

'What's it about?' 

'Well, I don't think you'd like it.'

'Tell me,' Adam puts his arms behind his head. 'Please?' Eric immediately softens and he tells him. When he finishes talking, he doesn't realize that he's smiling warmly. 'Otis and I watch it whenever it's my birthday. We wear drag.'

Adam opens his eyes, and surveys him up and down with a strange look on his face. Eric feels stupid for saying it all of a sudden. 'It's kind of a tradition that we have.' He stutters out.

'When's your birthday?' 

'April 26th.' 

'Huh.' is what Adam replies. Truly a man of few words. 'Mine is on November 19th.'

Eric stares at him. 'That's close! What do you plan to do?' 

'Work,' Eric stares at him some more. Adam just shrugs. 'What else do you like?'

He doesn't tear his gaze from him, even if Adam goes back to closing his eyes. He feels a pang of pity; he couldn't imagine Headmaster Groff would be affectionate to his son on his birthday. Eric wonders if they actually celebrate it at all. Birthdays in the Effiong household have always been a big deal. They are always loud, and it will not end until everyone is properly wasted and has a stomach full of food. He briefly imagines throwing Adam a Effiong-style birthday but he quickly tosses that thought of his head. Adam obviously would never be into a very loud declaration of something that celebrates it. So he drops the subject off. 

'I really like makeup.' 

* * *

'Adam, slow down!' Eric yelps as he is pulled by Adam to their place. It still fills his chest with warmth, calling that little wasteland 'their place.' Obviously, he's the one who calls it that… in his head. He didn't have time to fetch his coat and the hair on his arm is already standing up. 

It’s a Friday, thankfully and Eric can stay as late as he could. Midterms has been kicking his fat arse and Rahim has been well… Rahim. Rahim, who likes romantic poetry that are actually good. Rahim, who kisses like he should be in a movie. Rahim, who isn’t afraid to pull him close and whisper compliments to him in hallways. Good, incredibly hot Rahim who is not Adam. He’s so fucking confused, but he doesn’t want _this_ to stop. 

They arrive at record time and Eric turns to him, wheezing as he exhales out, 'Why are you in such a hurr—' 

He cuts him off with a close-mouthed kiss, which lasts for about ten seconds until Adam breaks away, gasping for breath. They breathe into each other's air, with Eric trying to find answers or some semblance of sense in Adam's hooded eyes. He doesn't know how Adam's arm has wound their way on his back, or how his right hand suddenly cups the nape of Adam's neck with his thumb gently stroking his jaw while his other hand gripping his obscenely and unfairly thin shirt. They find their way to kissing again, and he is making these huffing noise like a thirsty, dying man. Adam always kisses so softly, full of caution, of unsaid apologies. Eric runs his hands through his exposed chest, feeling the hair tangle between his fingers and weaves both of his arms around Adam’s neck, pushing their flushed chests together.

Adam’s mouth moves on from his lips to his jaw, trailing sweet kisses until he reaches the side of his neck. Eric’s hand moves from his neck to his shaved head, almost gripping. He opens his mouth and licks a long, hot stripe, eliciting a wordless groan from Eric. His hand moves from his back to his side, taking his time to lift Eric’s shirt, his fingers light as a feather and tickles just as much. Adam’s hand is warm, smooth as he moves his palm up and down. He continues ravaging Eric’s neck, tugging the skin above his throat between his teeth. ‘Fuck,’ Eric gasps out in alarm, eyes closed in bliss. ‘Don’t give me a hickey, man.’ He stops and places a kiss as sort of an apology. His mouth returns to Eric’s and they share a languid kiss again before breaking away. 

Eric looks at him with an amazed look on his face, out of breath. ‘What was that? You missed me or something?’

Adam just buries his face on his neck and doesn’t answer. Eric huffs out a disbelieving laugh, loving the feeling of his hair on his fingers, ‘Is that a yes?’ 

He doesn’t respond. Eric is positive the fondness is showing in his face and for a moment, he forgets about Rahim and everything else. All that matters right now is Adam is definitely nuzzling his neck, and he has just been snogged to death. 

‘I did,’ Adam speaks, his voice was so small he wasn’t sure he heard him correctly. 

‘Yeah? Long day at work, honey?’ 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ He replies, voice muffled. Eric just cackles.

He can’t help thinking this could actually work. 

* * *

'You know, you don't call me Tromboner anymore.' Eric muses out loud. 

'You don't like it.' 

'Yeah, it's not really clever as you think it is.'

Adam just pinches his side. It doesn't hurt. 

* * *

Today has been very frustrating. Practice for the musical gets tougher every day; he swears to God, the drama kids get even more psychotic as the week passes by. He feels kinda bad for Jackson, since the spotlight is on him, literally. And then, there’s all this Rahim thing. He still doesn't suspect a thing, and Erich feels like nasty git about it. He really likes Rahim; he’s the perfect boyfriend, the man whom his fantasies are made out of.

Yet on the other hand, Eric doesn’t want this thing with Adam to end.

'Let's play 20 questions!' Eric says excitedly, after Adam blurting out that he's bored. 

He scrunches his forehead. 'What's that? Sounds dumb.' 

'We take turns to ask a question, then answer them. It has to be the _truth_ truth though. No bullshit.' Eric says, his bat poised to near to an unsuspecting bottle of beer. He swings, basking in the satisfaction. He really needed that. 

Adam seems to think for a moment then agrees, 'Fine, I'll go first: what's your favourite band?' 

'Easy, _Queen._ ' Eric places another bottle on top of the log, 'What's yours?' 

_'The Velvet Underground.'_

'Nice.'

'My turn: why don't you wear makeup anymore?' 

'Yes, I do!' He looks at Adam, slightly offended. 'You just never see it.'

'Oh.' Eric gives him an inquisitive look then drops it when Adam shrugs. He thinks for a moment and finally settles for a question, 'Why did you get sent to military school, anyway?’ 

Adam absentmindedly swings his bat, watching him. ‘My dad found out I cheated on my essay.’

‘Ah.’ 

Adam mumbles, ‘Shouldn’t have done it.’

‘What, cheating?’

Adam nods. Eric wants to ask more but he interrupts his thoughts. When it comes to Adam Groff, he still has no idea what to expect, what to say, and where they stand at all. So he simply asks, 'Is military school really horrible?’

‘It’s my turn!’ He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, poking Eric with his hockey stick on his side. Eric yelps and laughs. ‘How’s your dad?’

He raises an eyebrow, ‘That’s your question?’ 

Adam nods again. 

Eric turns his back and sways to the direction of the bat he's holding. 'He's doing okay, I guess? He's being more supportive nowadays though, which is nice.' He smiles. 'Doesn't like Rahim though.' he mutters in an afterthought and instantly regrets it.

When he looks at Adam, he could've sworn he saw a flash of smug smile on his face but it's gone before Eric could comment about it. 'What about Headmaster Groff?' he asks, hesitantly. 

Adam freezes up but quickly relaxes. 'Fine,' he sighs. 'I don't know. He hates me.'

'I'm sure he doesn't.' 

'Oh, he does,' he scoffs. 'And the feeling's mutual.'

'Okay,' Eric drops his bat and walks towards him. Adam does the same and looks directly at him. They are standing face-to-face now, their game all but forgotten. 'Why do you think that?' 

'He's always on my back about it.' 

'About what?' Eric asks patiently, bringing a finger up to brush a knuckle on Adam's cheek. He melts instantly. 

'About how I disappoint him and shit.' 

'You're not a disappointment, Adam,' Eric rests his forehead against his. Adam's eyes slowly dart close, his eyelashes flutter against Eric's skin, making him shiver. With Adam, he's always the one who initiates this gentle, intimate touches but he responds almost immediately. His nose bumps against Eric's and they both huff out a laugh. 

'Thanks,' Adam whispers. Eric feels his heart constrict, and inhales a dizzying breath. 

He really wants this thing with Adam to last as long as it could. 

* * *

'Shit!' Eric yells, dropping the shard of the plate he was holding. He brings up his index finger to examine the cut. Fat, red blood oozes out of the wound—gushing down to his wrist. It looks pretty deep though he can’t be that sure. He looks around his pocket for a hanky, but curses when he couldn’t find one. The blood starts spilling from his hand to the floor. ‘Shit!’ he groans with feeling. 

The two of them are about to tune in for the day, and Eric was picking up this inconspicuous-looking piece of porcelain plate when he accidentally cuts himself. He glares at the now blood-stained shard.

‘Where the fuck—’ Adam was muttering when he rounds the corner. He stops when he sees Eric, eyes going comically wide. He jogs closer to him, delicately picks up his hands with his soft hands, and examines his cut. ‘Gnarly,’ he hisses, ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing! I just picked up that plate!’ Eric points at the shard. Adam looks at him like he had just grown a penis on his forehead. 

‘Why the fuck would you pick that up?’ 

Eric can feel his cheeks flush and just shrugs. He very well couldn’t tell him that he had planned to take it home with him as a souvenir, can he? Adam sighs, and lifts up his shirt to wipe the blood. His gaze automatically drops to the skin on Adam’s flat stomach, he savours the scattered patch of hair under his belly button. He shakes his head out of its stupor when the shirt covers it again. The cut is still spurting out small dots of blood. 

Adam bites his lip, looking worried. He tugs Eric’s wrist and starts walking, taking Eric with him, ‘Come on.'

They arrive in front of a small corner store near the scrapyard, with Adam’s hand still clamped around his wrist. When they enter the shop, he winces at the shrill bell sounding out. A girl about their age flinches from her sleep, her eyes dark and sunken and her hair braided into a neat braid over her shoulders. She glares at them, rests her chin on her palm, and slowly goes back to sleep. Adam looks around the store, grabs a box of plasters, a small bottle of alcohol, a box of cotton buds, and a plastic bottle of water, still half-dragging Eric around.

He dumps all of the items on the counter. When the server doesn’t rouse in her sleep, Adam slaps a hand on the counter. The girl shoots up to her seat, looks at them and groans. She swipes the water bottle, and scans it. She robotically does this to other items, ‘That’ll be £16.97.’ she drawls, voice groggy with sleep.

‘Let me—’

Adam cuts him off with a sharp, ‘No,’ He reaches for his pockets and takes out a twenty-pound bill. The server slaps his change on the counter, and swipes it quickly and pulls Eric again. Eric throws a, ‘Thanks!’ past his shoulder to the girl, who just gives him the middle-finger as a response. Eric reminds her of Maeve a little bit, and he decides that he likes her. 

‘Sit here,’ He lets go of his wrist and sits on the bench in front of the store, gesturing to the spot beside him. Eric rolls his eyes exasperatedly but obeys him anyway, ‘It’s just a cut, Adam.’

‘Give me your hand.’ Adam says softly, opening the pack of cotton buds. Eric sighs before laying his hand out to him, feeling weirded out by this display of concern over a small wound but nonetheless thrilled about it. He pours an ungodly amount of rubbing alcohol over the cotton bud and swabs the area around the injured skin. Then he prods the actual wound with an almost sweet carefulness. When he decided that it was “clean” enough, he opens the box of bandages and rips the covering with his teeth. He wraps the plaster around his finger, and brings the finger near his mouth, giving it an innocent kiss. Eric just watches him as he does it. 

Adam seems to realize what he just did and his cheek immediately reddens. ‘Sorry, my mum used to that to me.’

‘It’s fine,’ Eric finds it endearing. ‘Give me that alcohol bottle.’ He pours a decent amount of the substance and rubs his hands together, to get rid of the slightly damp blood in his hands. 

They sit there for a while, and Eric rests his uninjured hand on the bench, his fingers brushing with Adam’s, reminiscent of that time when they were in lab class. Adam had been so hesitant, rubbing his pinkie against Eric’s but he stops there. Just barely touching, but it had sent jolts of energy up in Eric’s arm. Now, Adam is doing the same thing again but he surprises Eric but twirling his finger with Eric’s own. Eric lets it, his heart feels like it’s about to burst. _Baby steps._

And who knows, maybe one day Adam would actually hold his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from i can change by ezra furman 
> 
> GODSHSBGGVS i can't get enough of these two :") they are incredible and i want more of them !!!! regarding the birthdays, those are just literally random months except for the dates which are the ncuti and connor's actual birthdates which is weird, I KNOW hsnshsbshsj don't come for me
> 
> also i just love soft and touch-starved adam so much,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 
> 
> anyways i hope y'all enjoyed !!! <3
> 
> come scream about effoff with me on [tumblr!](https://kamwashere.tumblr.com)


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